


your bed after traveling

by DrabblingSparks (ingenious_spark)



Series: Sensory Prompts [7]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Kinda?, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Love, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fic, Relationship Discussions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 11:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14448651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingenious_spark/pseuds/DrabblingSparks
Summary: Hador has some questions about what exactly being beloved of Fingolfin's house means.





	your bed after traveling

**Author's Note:**

> From a list of sensory prompts over on my tumblr, [@oopsbirdficced](http://oopsbirdficced.tumblr.com). I open prompts semi-regularly, if you want to come check me out.

_(your bed after traveling)_

Hador is worn and travel-stained when Fingolfin welcomes him back into his halls. He is glad to see his friend, and even gladder still to see a bath. He bathes, ruminating on what he has learned on his travels, and he thinks still when he slips into his quarters to find Fingolfin sat at a small table, with a bottle of wine and two cups, reading a book. Hador, clad in a fresh shirt and wool leggings, sits on the edge of the bed with a soft groan if relief.

Fingolfin smiles at him, a welcome sight on a face more often lined with stress. He pours Hador a cup and brings it to him, and Hador is stricken with confused realization. Fingolfin catches the shift in his mood and cocks his head to the side, like a bird.

“Something troubles you, dear Hador. I would have you be out with it, that I might try and ease your burden.” He says in his sweet, low voice. Hador desperately wishes Gildis were here. She’s good at helping him find his words.

“I’ve noticed many more people calling me Elf-Friend, which I understand.” He says slowly, and bless him, Fingolfin waits attentively for him to finish his thought. “And an equal number of folk are calling me beloved of your house. It’s that part I’m not sure I understand properly. Not with some of the looks your people give me when they think I’m not paying attention.” He breathes out a sigh. Fingolfin frowns.

“If my people are troubling you, I can…” he trails off, clearly unsure of what he might actually be able to do. You can’t stop people from thinking, even as a tyrant, and Fingolfin is no tyrant. Hador laughs, a touch rusty, and drinks deeply of his wine.

“It’s not that. Their scandalized looks are almost amusing at times. But it comes to my attention that we might not have the same meaning in mind when we think of the word ‘beloved’.” He peers over at Fingolfin shrewdly.

“What does it mean to you, then?” Fingolfin asks placidly.

“It can be used to mean dear, as in a dear or close friend. Or it can be close to the heart, as in a wife or a lover.” Oh, he’s finished all his wine. That’s annoying. “It’s just that I have the sneaking suspicion that you and your folk are using the latter definition for your regard towards me.” He says heavily, concerned that this will affect their friendship.

“You would be right,” Fingolfin replies with that same damnable serenity. Hador frowns.

“But you’re married. I’m married.” He says by way of protest. Fingolfin raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not saying I wish to lie with you. I respect my wife and yours too much to do that. But elves can love more than once, despite that one rumor still making the rounds. We love deeply, and it does not fade, once we have given someone our devotion. Something, I believe, that got lost in translation.” He says smoothly. Hador jumps to his feet.

“But Fingolfin, I am already three and thirty! If you say this love does not wane… I’ve half my lifetime spent already! And I know the souls of men do not go the same place as your souls in death. I would not wish pain like that upon my worst enemy, let alone you, my dearest friend.” he sags back to the bed, and stares at Finfgolfin, completely unruffled. “Do you not care that my life will be spent in the blink of your eyes?” His luminous, ancient eyes soften.

“The time I have spent with you will be all the more precious for its brevity, beloved Hador.” Fingolfin murmurs, setting his cup down and coming to sit on the bed beside Hador, embracing him. Hador clutches him in return, as best he can with only one free hand, and something within him rails at the injustice of his own short life.

Presently, Fingolfin releases him, and collects the cup from his hand, returning it to the table.

“Rest, beloved Hador. The road has made you over-weary, I fear.” He murmurs, and is gone like he is the ephemeral one.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
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